A Thief amongst Many
by j.Paynter
Summary: AU if Marian had married Guy at the end of season 1. The outlaws have been betrayed; with one dead and one missing can they prevail? Robin's a wee bit different then normal.
1. Prologue

A single candle fluttered in the draughty stable as Marian hummed to herself while she brushed her horse. The monotony helped quiet her anxieties of what tomorrow would bring and the closeness of another animal was comforting.

"Marian."

Both horse and woman jumped. She turned to see his figure shrouded in shadow. She hadn't heard him enter, but she was hearing him less and less these days. He seemed to have developed the art of appearing and vanishing; although he had always possessed something similar, particularly when there were chores to be done. How she wished she could do something similar, now.

She turned away from him, schooling herself to show no emotion. That wouldn't do. "What do you want, Robin?"

"You." The stark honesty of what he said took her breath away momentarily. She brushed the horse rather harshly and it moved away from her in discomfort.

"Don't, Robin." She said in warning.

"Marian."

"You can't say that anymore. You don't have that right, you abandoned that five years ago." She turned towards him using her resentment and her anxiety to fuel her righteous anger. "I am marrying Guy tomorrow Robin, and that is the end of it."

"You don't love him."

"I can."

"He won't let you be who you are. Who will be the nightwatchman?"

"I can still be the nightwatchman. I was helping the poor a long time before you, remember?"

He snorted derisively.

"No Robin," Marian said quietly and with finality as she walked up to him. "Just, no." She turned to leave and Robin caught her arm. "Let me go." She said over her shoulder.

He rose to his feet and sadly kissed her cheek. "I love you, Marian," he said and then he was gone.

She leaned against the wall, her hands pressed tensely behind her flat on the wood. "I know, Robin. I know." She said softly to the night.

* * *

He cornered her in the corridor the night after their wedding. His hot breath on her cheek made her stomach jump and her heart flutter in nervousness.

"I know you know where to find Hood," he said towering over her.

"Don't be silly," she tried to dismiss it and gave him a coy smile. He grabbed her shoulders, painfully and pushed her roughly into the wall. Startled, she felt for the first time traces of fear.

"I know your home has been the hotbed of suspicious outlaw activity. I know you saw Hood recently. I know you know where his hideout is. Now tell me." He hissed into her face. She closed her eyes to block out the horribleness but he merely shook her.

"No," she said quietly. She had made her promise never to betray Robin. Guy's fingers dug painfully into her flesh.

"Then your father will pay for your insolence."

"No!" her eyes flew open. Guy's eyes were dark and malevolent, focused entirely on her.

"Choose; your father or an outlaw?"

Marian bit back a sob. She would not cry before this monster; but she was about to betray a man she loved.

* * *

The outlaws were tired; although the fight had been short it had been brutal. They had had to embrace the noblest of outlaw tricks and run away to hide in the greenwood. But their number was less and they gathered now over the fresh grave to mourn their loss.

It was the first time that they had encountered death so closely. Each one knew that they had been betrayed and even who had betrayed them as they shot sympathetic sidelong glances at their expressionless leader. Their hideout had been destroyed and they were on the run in their own territory. And then to lose one of their comrades-in-arms with whom they had bickered, laughed and fought with. The forest had forged a brotherhood amongst them and they all felt it.

It was Dajq who noted Robin's disappearance first. It was the morning after the burial. The others ignored it for the first week and merely went on with surviving. It wasn't until the fourth week that John looked over at the grave and said quietly, "I don't think he's coming back."


	2. Three Years Later

"Get back 'ere you cowards. I'm not through with you yet. You just wait until I hear you've been 'anging the poor and taking all their money then I'll..." she swung her sword after her fleeing victims.

"Anna, what are you doing young lady?" Robert asked. He was standing in the doorway to a small thatched house with his arms stacked full of firewood.

"Just playing," the little girl shrugged and dropped the stick she was using as a sword and flounced over to him, her blonde pigtails jumping.

"Is that right?" he said with a smile handing her a log of wood. "I hope you were playing nice."

"I always do, 'cept the boys are no fun once you beat them at sword fighting."

He chuckled as they made their way into the living area.

"Father," Anna said turning her vivid blue eyes towards the man in question who hummed his affirmation. "The boys were playing Robin Hood."

"Is that right?"

"An' they said it was true. That he actually existed."

"Could be," Robert said as he started making dinner. "That's all the way over in Nottingham, Robin Hood could be true. There're certainly enough outlaws around."

"So the stories you tell me 'bout the nightwatchman and Robin Hood, _are they_ true?"

"Could be," he said again, ruffling the little girl's hair. "You'll have to ask Tuck when he comes by. He gets out more than me."

"Okay," Anna said spritely bouncing up to help her father and the matter was forgotten.

* * *

In Nottingham

Two cloaked figures were inconspicuously camouflaging with the group of peasants that were milling around the stalls in the outer town area. No one paid them much attention as they seemed to be focused on the West Gate.

"Are you sure she said noon?" the taller one hissed at his companion for the fifth time.

"I'm not being funny Will, but if you ask me that again I'm going to take this tomato and..."

"Alright, there's no need for that. Are you sure she wasn't being coerced like before?" Will asked.

"We all saw her, it's been a long time since she betrayed us and I don't think..."

"There it is," Will interrupted as a small merchant cart appeared amongst the stalls heading toward the West Gate.

"Well, I guess it's a go," Alan said as they started to follow.

Later that afternoon found the four of them seated around a merrily blazing campfire. Heavy sacks spoke of the success of the day's job and the work to come for tomorrow but although the scene looked cheerful the outlaws sat in gloomy silence.

"I came back through the old camp today," John said suddenly. "Thought I'd go see Much." The other outlaws looked up from the dancing flames. "Someone had left flowers there again."

"Do you think it's him?" Djaq asked anxiously.

"Who else would it be?" Will countered.

"Still," Alan said sadly throwing a twig into the flames. "Doesn't mean nothing does it? He's still going to be gone."

A twig snapped behind them and they all jumped up, weapons in hand. A small cloaked figure stood just outside the firelight, her hands raised in surrender.

"It's just me."

"Oh," Alan grunted as he sat down again, discarding his sword.

"At least it shows he still remembers," John said slowly, returning to their previous conversation and ignoring their visitor.

The others nodded in agreement or acceptance as their guest sat down and discarded her hood. They also ignored her, taking particular care not to notice the bruises and cuts that covered her face. She in turn did not ask about the conversation she had interrupted. She did not want to know. Instead, she sat drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.

"A consignment of silver is coming through the high path tomorrow, but I don't know at what time."

John grunted in understanding.

Marian paused for a minute before adding, "There's also going to be a scouting party out early in Sherwood tomorrow morning. Guy's going to be there."

Djaq nodded and handed Marian a tin of ointment for her wounds. The routine had been well established by now. They all sat in silence for a while before Marian rose silently to her feet and departed.

The forest was dark and cold as she found the old path, overgrown and rarely travelled. When she reached the grave she stared sadly at the flowers that someone had left there. She knew who had left them. Leaning down she added her own to the growing bouquet. She sat there for a while, remembering then stood suddenly and wiped her eyes. Leaving with a swish of her dress and a softly spoken sentence:

"I'm so sorry, Much."


	3. Ambush, Arrest, Rescue

"And then she challenged the boy to win the sheriff's silver arrow."

"The nightwatchman took on an armed man when she was unarmed...wow." Anna exclaimed, bright eyed.

"Not only unarmed, she talked him out if it. So you see young lady, sometimes you can use your head to solve problems instead of your fist." Robert said with a smile, tapping the little girl's head.

He got up from where he had been lying beside her telling her a story. "Bed time now, little lady."

The little girl scrunched her nose up at him, "night father."

He closed the door with a smile, it was times like these that he cherished the most. Returning to the living area he sat down opposite its lone occupant. Friar Tuck was a large man in a horizontal fashion with an exceeding taste in all things culinary. As Robert sat the stocky friar slid a pint of mead over to him while raising his own to his lips.

"So, the little lady's growing up so quickly," he commented jovially.

"Oh aye," Robert murmured.

"Asking questions of all sorts before long."

"Oh aye?"

"Well if you want to remain an enigmatic grumpy old man, who am I to stand in your way," Tuck stated.

"Thanks Tuck," Robert said dryly.

"Have you heard any news from Nottingham?"

"Not since David got back, why? What have you heard?" There was a brief sharpening in Robert's gaze that was gone as soon as it had come, but the friar had seen it.

"Oh the usual, the Sheriff swears that he will capture Robin Hood and his gang. The poor are still poor and the rich are still rich and greedy."

"Why's the Sheriff so certain this time?" Robert asked casually.

"I'm not sure," Tuck commented off-handed. "The kitchen maid, Anne, mentioned something about an ambush..."

"Hmmmm," there was silence in the small room a part from the occasional spark from the fire. Finally Robert cleared his throat. "I think I'll go to Sheffield tomorrow," he said quietly getting to his feet and leaving the room. Tuck watched him go deep in thought and a sympathetic expression on his face. Then he grinned and retrieved Robert's half empty pint downing it in a single gulp.

Robert walked out to their small stable and gently fondled the nose of their lone horse who nickered in response. Sighing he looked up at the cavernous starry night. The verges of a forest - not Sherwood - called to him and a brief breeze rustled the leaves and brushed his face with refeshing coolness.

"Oh Much, what am I supposed to do?"

* * *

"I don't like it," John intoned stubbornly.

"Oh, come on," Alan whined. "We've been dodging patrols all morning. Think about how it will rub the Sheriff the wrong way when he finds out we took that silver when Sherwood was crawling with his men."

"I donno, Alan." Will said quietly. "We haven't seen Gisborne and she said he would be out here."

"Look we either do it or we don't. I for one think we deserve some compensation for the aggravation that they've put us through this morning."

The other outlaws looked at each other and almost by unanimous decision, nodded. They found the high path miraculously clear of any guards and dropped into position. It wasn't long before a small, rickety cart with a dusty old porter came around the corner.

Only two men, Alan couldn't believe his luck. "This," he declared triumphantly as the group revealed themselves. "Is an ambush."

"That's good," said another voice from behind him. "Because this is an arrest."

Slowly they turned to find Gisborne astride a black horse and a ring of guardsmen cresting the ridge of road. Turning back they made out other guardsmen picking their way through the undergrowth to surround them. They were trapped.

"I told you I didn't like it," growled John softly.

"Don't bother fighting," Gisborne said with amusement. "The sheriff wants to hang you."

At his derisive tone the outlaws bristled and in defiance, as one they unslung their weapons.

"Very well," Gisborne's tone was still highly amused. He waved a careless hand at his minions. "Don't hurt them..._seriously_."

Robin Hood's outlaws were renowned for their fighting skills but they were simply overwhelmed by sheer number. The last thing Alan saw was John taking an arrow through the leg before he was hit from behind.

* * *

When Alan came to it was to the cold flagstone and metallic rattle of chains that he had come, in his time as an outlaw, to associate with the dungeon. Following that it was with a hiss that his various hurts made their way slamming into his conscious brain like a vindictive case of pins and needles. With a groan he turned around to survey his dimly lit prison.

It was fairly crowded as cells went. John was stretched out in the middle of the floor, dead to the world and taking up most of the space. Will and Djaq were huddled in a corner. Of all of them, Djaq seemed to be the best off.

With another groan Alan struggled to his feet and realised that he must have twisted his ankle 'cause it 'hurt like the friggen divil'. Finally, unsteadily on his feet he gestured at John.

"How is he?"

"He took a big hit to his head, he's been out for ages and...I don't know." Djaq sounded frustrated and helpless. She never did like being enclosed, Alan remembered. Something to do with being caught as a slave.

Will broke the silence with a mutter and a curse. Alan looked at him in surprise, the young craftsman never swore. It was obvious that he was in the grip of a fever, sweat dripped from his forehead and even in the darkness he looked pale.

"It doesn't look good does it?" Alan asked needlessly.

"I will pray to Allah," said Djaq quietly.

They stayed like that, Alan and Djaq contemplating their increasingly morose thoughts, until they heard murmuring outside the heavy wooden door. Suddenly it opened and a fat father peered in. He glanced around at them then withdrew his head. He appeared almost immediately, entering the cell and bringing a second cloaked and hooded figure.

"Alan, help with John." The second hooded figure said as he went straight to Will and hoisted him inelegantly onto his shoulder.

Alan stood for a second paralysed and believed firmly that he was delirious. Cloaked saviours that knew his name and sounded familiar? That was almost on peer with the time he and Tom had spent ten hours in a London Tavern and attempted to swim the Thames. But as the fat holy man struggled to heave the dead weight of Little John he was brought to his senses and bent to help until they had managed to drape an arm of the unconscious man over each of their shoulders.

The friar led the way down several hidden passageways that Alan didn't know even existed. They came out into a bay near the kitchen where a horse and cart were waiting. The second hooded figure with Will and Djaq were already there and were being loaded into coffins. A third man jumped down from the cart and gave Alan an infectious grin of excitement and nervousness. The three of them managed to squash John into a coffin. Will and Djaq were being squished into one together and as Alan dropped, exhausted into the last empty coffin he saw the still ambiguous helper close the lid on their coffin and heard Will mutter, "Not now Robin, give me four more minutes..."


	4. Robert

Alan was surprised at how well the ruse worked. He could hear the guards clearly as they rumbled through the gates of Nottingham castle. But the outlaws were not immediately let out of their temporary prisons. After several hours in the bumpy confined space with an unquenchable need for water Alan began to wonder which had been a better option; the dungeon or their current plight?

Their three captives/saviours spent the trip talking and laughing about nothing significant; harvesting, hunting, daily prayer, women in the village and horses. It seemed surreal to Alan that these men who had tempted the impossible in spiriting the most wanted outlaws out of the Sheriff's clutches and spent the journey talking about mundane things.

By the time Alan's bladder was bursting the cart slowed and suddenly stopped. The three men muttered something then the lid was lifted off Alan's coffin. The fresh night breeze felt like a slap to Alan's sweat soaked face. The cart was in a small stable. He could dimly make out their rescuers helping the other outlaws out of their hiding places and into a small thatched house that backed on to the stable. He followed dazed.

The room was cosy and a fire was already merrily ablaze. The unseen cloaked figure was bent over John's prone form that had been laid out on the floor but someone had given him a blanket and a pillow. The smell of herbs came to Alan and for the first time since this whole ordeal began he felt safe and calm.

"Who are you?" he asked the fat Friar who was helping Djaq with Will, who was awake and limping. Alan's voice was hoarse from thirst.

"Good Samaritans," the friar said after a small glance at the figure bent over John. The as yet unmasked individual took that as his cue to silently leave the room.

"I'm Tuck, and the small one is David." He turned away from Alan for a second. "Here, sit and drink." A tankard of mead was placed on the table in front of him. "A small reprieve."

"I...I don't know how to thank you," he said truthfully. "We thought we were goners."

"Beh," the friar sat down opposite Alan and helped himself to a drink. "S'all in a day of God's work."

"Tuck's cure for everything," a voice said from the doorway and the third man appeared, leaning against the frame. "Nice to see you've helped yourself."

"Bah, I needed something to calm my nerves."

"I'm sure you did, here are some blankets, stay in the house, and don't make a lot of noise. You're supposed to be in bed little lady." There was a squeak from behind the other door leading out of the room and Alan was able to see blonde hair before the little girl scampered away. "Excuse me," the cloaked man strode through their midst and was gone again.

The fat little friar sighed heavily and heaved himself up. "Guess I'm taking first watch."

When the outlaws were finally left to themselves Djaq caught Alan's wide eyes from across the room.

"Was that who I thought it was?"

"I dunno? I thought I was hallucinating but if you're seeing it too..."

"Are you sure it's really him?"

"I dunno...it's Robin isn't it?"

* * *

"Father, who's downstairs?"

"In bed." Anna sighed but did as she was told. When her father got that tone of voice nothing could dissuade him. Flopping back into the bed her father drew up the blanket and tucked her in.

"But who are they?"

"They were never here, understood?" Her father sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her closely. They had harboured enough fugitives and secrets for Anna to know the routine of anonymity. She loved how her father trusted her in things like this, so she nodded eagerly.

"They," he smiled brightly down at her drawing out the secret. "Are Robin Hood's men."

Anna's eyes went wide with wonder. "Really? That was Alan and Little John and Will Scarlet and Djaq the Saracen?" Her small frame fairly shook with excitement.

"Yes, but they're exhausted and sore. So don't disturb them tonight. Give them a good night's rest and you can bombardier them with questions tomorrow. Do we have a deal?" He cocked his head to the side and waited.

The little girl sighed in disappointment.

"Deal."

"Goodnight, little lady."

"Night papa."

* * *

A long groan signalled John's rising from the depths of subconscious. The bear of a man rubbed a paw across his face and sat up gingerly, looking around confused at the sparse room; fireplace with a fire burning low, long wooden table with three seats and a cabinet by the window. A bow and quiver hung beside the door. Djaq, Alan and Will were curled up next to the fire, swamped in blankets and bruises turning purple.

Djaq was awake and looking at him.

"What happened?" John asked in a gravelly voice.

"I'm not sure," she said. "We were well and truly dead, then three men dressed as your holy men broke us out of the dungeon and spirited us away in coffins."

John blinked at her in disbelief.

"And...I think one of the men was Robin."

"Now I know you're pulling me leg," John grunted.

The two outlaws were disturbed from their conversation by the entrance of a small girl still dressed in her night shift. The shirt was too big for her, and her bare feet stuck out the end, her hair was a bright blonde, and her blue eyes were wide with excitement.

"Father said you were down here," she said by way of greeting. "Is it true that you are Robin Hood's men?"

"Errr..." John looked at Djaq for guidance but the Saracen woman was merely studying the little girl.

"You're Little John, deadly with a staff, and Djaq the Saracen healer and Alan the joker and Will the carpenter?" she looked around at the bodies in the room and grinned. "I always thought you were real. Papa told me so many stories."

At this point Alan woke slowly with a snore. Rising to consciousness he must have felt the bruises and bumps from the previous days and began cursing.

"...blimey...damn...hell...god damn soldiers..."

Djaq, in an attempt to rescue the little girl from any further foul language, kicked Alan in the shin. This had the effect of waking Alan more quickly than he would have liked.

"Goddamnit to hell!" he shouted turning to Djaq. "What was that for?"

"Caw," Anna said drawing Alan's attention to her. "You said bad words."

"Anna," said a voice from outside the room, sparing Alan from any sheepish reply. "You might want to get some breakfast before I turn these outlaws loose on it."

"Okay papa," she said brightly, skipping out of the room.

And just like that Robin of Locksley stepped into the room. He was tanner, free of stubble and had more blonde tinges to his hair that suggested he had been working in the sun. His eyes were different though - they no longer held a sparkle of mischief. They were cold eyes that were weary with the world. Ignoring their recognition of him he spoke to the room at large.

"I'd appreciate it if you could keep to this house and keep quite so no one will know that you're here. If you need something than ask me or Tuck. And Alan...I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth clean around my daughter."

The outlaws didn't know how to respond. The old resentment of betrayal burned at Robin's new content existence. While they fought injustice in the forest he ran away and lived a normal life with a house and a family. But Robin's face was not the one of the young leader they had so fondly remembered. It was overshadowed with worry and a deep sadness.

Robin turned to leave the room.

"Robin?" Will's voice stopped him, but he did not turn around.

"It's Robert, here," he replied quietly over his shoulder then disappeared from view.

The outlaws exchanged confused glances.


	5. The Way Things are Now

The next few days passed in quiet convalescence for the outlaws, Robin seemed to be avoiding them completely, spending most of the time outdoors, but little Anna was enthralled with them. It was from her that they gradually scraped together a picture of Robin's new life.

"And you live in the forest?" she asked on one occasion when they were gathered around the fire at night, Will was whittling, and the other three were sewing up the holes in their clothes – in John's case with some difficulty.

"Humph," John grunted in affirmative, focused on threading his needle.

"What's it like? Father rarely takes me to the forest, he says it's not safe for a little girl. He only takes me every now and then to see Auntie Dora or Uncle Much."

The outlaws all looked up, startled.

"Much?" Alan asked with restrained casualty.

"Uncle Much," Anna said quietly. "He died."

"You know about Much?" Will asked curiously, it had seemed to them that they had all been forgotten, and thrust into the shadows of Robin's past.

"Of course I do," Anna said indignantly. "Uncle Much fought with father in the crusades. They owed each other their lives. Papa doesn't like to talk about it a lot, but we visit his grave every month. Mama said it was father's way of remembering."

Djaq exchanged a glance with the other outlaws. This was one of the questions that had been irritating them. They had constantly shared meals with Friar Tuck and even robust little David Doncaster but not once had they seen any sign that a woman lived there. Surprisingly Robin did most of the cooking, when he wasn't working or hunting.

"Where is she, your mother?" John asked gently.

Anna absently picked at John's shirt that he had discarded sewing.

"She died last winter," Anna said softly. "Mother and my little brother. Auntie Dora wanted to take me, she said family should stick together," Anna shuddered at the thought of Auntie Dora. "But father said it'd be just the two of us...and Tuck of course."

Before John could ask her what she meant the sound of numerous horses thundering into the courtyard disturbed them. Tuck appeared in the doorway with an curious expression.

"Anna."

Everyone turned towards Robin who had entered via the stable. He wore shabby clothes and a cobbler's hat that shadowed the features of his dirty face to make him unremarkable and unrecognisable.

"Upstairs." The little girl threw an anxious glance at the outlaws and disappeared in the direction her father dictated.

"Tuck, the wall." With that highly confusing instruction Robin disappeared outside towards the sound of horses and men.

"Come on," Tuck urged directing the bewildered outlaws towards the entrance to the room. He pulled away a panel from the seemingly solid wall to reveal a hidden passage.

"A fake wall," Will said in appreciation. "It doesn't even look like an extension from the original foundation. This is remarkable, how did you...?"

"Not now Will," Alan muttered grumpily, slipping past him and into the darkness. "Live now and gawk later."

The four outlaws packed into the small compartment, John rather uncomfortably, and Tuck sealed them in. Not a moment too soon. The sounding of leather, spurs and heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of their unexpected guest.

Guy of Gisborne sauntered into the small room as if he owned the place, if an owner could look quite so contemptuous of his surroundings. He turned to address the person behind him.

"And you're the blacksmith?"

"Near enough 'round these parts," Robin replied in a strong cockney accent.

"And who's he?" Tuck had just entered the room.

"Just Friar Tuck, he's from the order of Benedict, from just round the corner."

"I'm looking for some outlaws, they've been spotted in these parts," Gisborne said aggressively.

Said outlaws collectively held their breath.

"Ootlaws?" Robin cooed slightly owlishly. "We..ell," he drawled. "I dunno aboot any ootlaws. Tuck?"

"There's always outlaws and those who spurn God's will round these parts, any particular outlaws to draw your interest, my lord?"

"Oh these are special outlaws, the craven band of Robin Hood."

"Caw, blimey. Are we safe?" Robin asked.

Maybe it was the tinge of sarcasm but something must have raised Gisborne's suspicions as he turned to study Robin carefully. Djaq sucked in her breath audibly and Alan nudged her into silence.

"Oh, I think you're relatively safe. Search the house," he barked at his men. Robin took a step forward to protest but a bullish guard caught him from behind.

"And you, blacksmith. Two of my horses have lost shoes. You will see to them immediately."

There was a lengthy pause in which Robin's silent defiance seeped through the entire room, then, "yes, my lord." Came the humble reply and he left the room with the guard in toe.

Gisborne swept the room. There was a heart-stopping moment when he paused fractionally away from where the outlaws hid behind the thin partition sure that their loudly thumping hearts would give them away. The sounds of soldiers tramping throughout the house echoed in the small area.

Gisborne halted before the fire and spun to face the room.

"You, friar, what have you heard of Robin Hood?"

"My lord?"

"What have you heard?" Gisborne snarled, not happy about being asked to repeat himself.

"Only that he is a legend, a ghost that haunts Sherwood Forest. His deeds are sung by minstrels but they can hardly be real exploits. Only falsehoods, my lord."

Gisborne turned his back violently on Tuck. A prickly silence permeated the room with the dull sounds of a hammer on metal dimly resounding.

"What of this blacksmith?"

"Rob? He's a simpleton sir, only concerned with petty matters."

"Would he hide outlaws for money?" there was a hint of distrust and something more underlying that question. It was as if someone had snitched on Robin.

"Well he isn't the most pious of men, but I don't think he would risk things. He's been, not himself since his wife and son passed."

"Soldiers?" The suspicion was in full bloom.

"Childbirth." Robin had returned. Gisborne and Tuck turned towards him but before either of them could speak a squeal reverberated down the stairs and a flash of blonde dashed into the room. Robin caught her and moved to hide her behind him.

Gisborne lazily raised his eyebrows at the soldier who had entered behind the little girl, out of breath.

"She bit me, sir." Was the indignant excuse.

"Your 'orses are shod, my 'ouse has searched and me family threatened. Is there anything else?" Robin asked with a trace of belligerence.

This was a mistake. Gisborne took a step towards him. "Have you paid your taxes?" He asked menacingly.

Robin remained in stoic silence.

Gisborne turned to his men. "Take anything of value."

Within minutes the house was stripped of valuables and the soldiers had left. Tuck let the outlaws out with shaking hands.

"Phew, that was a close one, eh Rob?"

Robin bent to pick up Anna, who buried her face in her father's neck. He turned to face the outlaws.

"Tomorrow, you leave."

All the anger and resentment of the last few years welled up inside Alan combined with the tension from the last few minutes.

"Robin! You can't just turn your back on all of this. We've been fighting injustice all this time, you ran away. Now you're throwing us out?! Much died and you just gave up! We've been _fighting_ Robin. We've stayed, in the forest, eating crappy food and being hunted because we're fighting the good fight. Do remember the 'good fight'? You're the one who convinced us not to give up when things got tough. We miss Much too but what about the other people? Do you even care about the poor of England anymore?"

Robin hadn't spoken during Alan's tirade, indeed, he seemed almost resigned to it. His body stiffened and his face was closed. When Alan finished the silence was absolute.

"Robin Hood died three years ago. I've helped you out of respect from our old friendship, but that's as far as it goes. Tomorrow I want you out of my house," with those soberly spoken words the young man carried his daughter out of the room.

"Don't be too hard on him," Tuck said quietly as the outlaws listened to Robin climbing the stairs. "It's been a rough time for him."

"How hard could it be?" Alan snorted, Djaq gave him a shove.

"I didn't meet him until two years ago, that was just after he had married Elizabeth and adopted Anna as his own. Those girls were the only good things that happened to him; you must understand that Much was almost a part of him, they had survived the crusades together, they grew up together, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. And Robin blamed himself because it was Marian's betrayal that caused Much's death."

"Well, he's right there," John mumbled grudgingly as he rubbed a now healed scar from that night.

Tuck sighed and rubbed a hand through his worn hair. "So you can see why his self-punishment has merit, if you can condemn him, how can he forgive himself? His penance is the worse sort – it's his guilt torn between his two loves; one for his oldest love and the other for his almost brother."

"They never seemed that close, I guess I never thought about what they went through in the Holy Lands," Will said quietly, looking at Djaq.

She shook her head.

"They never spoke about it in front of us."

"Nevertheless, I think it would be for the best if you left before dusk," Tuck said.

The outlaws mumbled but began to gather their meagre possessions.

"If it helps, he never turned his back."

Alan turned back to Tuck in confusion.

"Robin Hood never died. He never could stop helping the poor – he only does it for atonement now."

"The false wall," Will murmured.

"This is the fourth house that Rob's lived in in under six months. He hast to keep moving because the soldiers get suspicious. I think he risks less now that he just has Anna to look after, God rest Elizabeth's soul, but he still endangers his life for those who are weaker. He lives his penance daily. So don't give up on him yet. He just has to learn to forgive himself first." With that the friar departed.

The outlaws were left abruptly with the thoughts of their troubled ex-leader who was haunted by the ghosts of his past friend, the betrayal of his love, and the sins of his actions.

As they left the small house in the dead of night, Djaq looked back in pity and wondered in curiosity over this Christian concept of atonement. Could someone truly absolve their sins by balancing the equation? If so, than hadn't Robin been hit enough blows by God's hand? Perhaps it wasn't Allah's mercy that was necessary...

She sighed, sick of trying to figure out these Englishmen. She needed Much's advice, and she had an awful feeling that what could cure Robin right now was exactly that.


	6. Playing Nice

It was raining. They had been back in the forest for a week now and it had been raining for nearly that entire time. Mud had gotten into places that Djaq never knew mud could get to and she found her self missing the bright sunburnt sand of her homeland. Will had developed a cough, John was working on some serious brooding and Alan, who would normally under these circumstances get heartily drunk, was whining due to the significant lack of alcoholic fluids. It was times like these that Djaq admired Robin's leadership the most. Englishmen! How had he handled these men to train them into the infamous outlaws that they were?

A crackle of leaves and breaking twigs disturbed the outlaws from their melancholy. Marian came darting into the clearing, her eyes lighting up with their old spark and a large dosage of relief as she saw them.

"Thank God," she blasphemed causally. "I've been searching for _weeks._ Guy said that he had caught you, then he was so angry that you had to have escaped even though he insisted that you were all dead. I haven't slept and…" she drew in a shuddering gasp that racked her entire body.

The rain had drenched her dress and it clung to her horrifyingly thin figure. Djaq, ever the doctor, noted her hunched stance and recognised the tactic to reduce pain. She felt a pang of sympathy for the woman before her, she was reminded of Robin as they had left him, two ghosts fading away because of the deeds of the past.

Djaq laid a coloured hand on Marian's soaking sleeve.

"Come in out of the rain."

Marian drew in another shuddering breath but came under the dripping tarpaulin.

"He said that they had caught and hung you in Lincoln yesterday, but he was gone again this morning. The guards said something about a sighting in Sheffield…"

"Can't imagine where they got that idea from," John muttered. "We've been stuck here all day." He cast a dirty look at Djaq but she merely stuck out her tongue at him. Englishmen!

"What?" Marian asked, startled.

"We've been stuck here all day because our _doctor_ was worried about someone's iddy-bitty cough," Alan commented snidely. "Imagine, I could be at the Road to Jerusalem inn _right_ _now_, drinking a large pint of mead and Betty Sue sitting on my lap…" He trailed off, lost in thought or pleasure.

"But…" Marian seemed suddenly disconcerted, she sprang to her feet startling the fugitives.

"Run!"

"Huh?" Alan asked.

"Run, you've got to run." Marian urged pulling Djaq to her unwilling feet. "Come on!"

"Why?" Djaq asked confused.

"He lied to me, he said he was going to Lincoln. You've got to go. He _lied._"

"You know what the worst thing in life is?" Said a new and horrifyingly familiar voice. Through the haze of the misting rain Guy of Gisborne was seated on his black stallion watching them. Soldiers dressed in their bumblebee uniform could be seen enclosing the clearing, picking their way through the wet undergrowth with their swords already drawn.

Marian squeaked in fear, her grip on Djaq's arm painfully tight.

"A wife who doesn't know her place," Guy continued, as if he wasn't just conversing with fugitives and his wife that were obviously moments from their deaths. "Betrayal is the worst sin, it is particularly heinous when it's someone you love, but you'd know all about that wouldn't you, m'dear? Good job leading me to them…again."

"You pig. I never loved you!" Marian hissed. Djaq looked at her in surprise. She hadn't heard that tone from Marian in three years.

"You forced me to marry you to save my father, then you let him go to his death. You tricked me! I never loved you. Robin is the only man I've ever loved, you are nothing compared to him." Marian's thin body was rigid with fury, her head was high and her face flushed with loathing. In that moment something of the old Marian had returned and for a second a brief look of regret flashed across Guy's face, but it was gone soon enough.

"If the past three years have been what you do to someone you hate, then I would hate to see what you would do to someone you love. But wait…isn't that what happened to that other outlaw…the manservant…" Guy's laughter was mocking. But he had said the wrong thing.

Much's name was still sacrament amongst the gang. Upon this defilement of their cherished friend they were on their feet, backs together with weapons firmly in their hands, rain running rivulets down their faces as they made their last stand. Marian didn't even pause. She picked up a spare sword and faced the soldiers with the others.

"What's this?" Guy asked. "Loyalty to the last? You know the Sheriff doesn't want anymore mistakes, it'll be the death of you all."

"Come and get it," John growled between clenched teeth.

Metal clashed on metal and thunder rumbled overhead as they met. Mud made the battle sloppy, everyone either slipped or were stuck fast, the rain and the jarring of steel numbing their hands. The coldness seeped into the outlaw's skin and their stomachs dropped with the certainty that they were going to die.

Djaq felt Marian's weak body crumble beside her and immediately stepped over her to deflect a blow. Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew that Robin and Much would never forgive her if something was to happen to the former noblewoman.

A movement from her periphery startled her and she turned towards it too late. A guard caught her hand with the nick of his blade. It wasn't deep but it was enough to disarm her. She stared defiantly at the man who was going to kill her. He had blue eyes beneath his helmet that obscured most of his face. Pretty blue eyes that were growing wider…his mouth opened in an O…and he…fell face first at her feet, an arrow embedded firmly in his back.

* * *

Guy had been comfortably watching the entertainment from the back of his horse. Sure, he hadn't been really shocked when Marian had sided with them. She had been a pain during the last two years; her constant charity had been a trial, her nagging had been punished and still she defied him and she still hadn't provided him with an heir. She was still pretty though, moments like just before where she had radiated anger – she was like an avenging goddess. But now the time had come to bury the past – Robin Hood was gone, likely dead and now his gang was going to same way. Everything connected with Hood had been his and now he was destroying it as was his right. He laughed, the big man was being overcome.

An arrow soared out of nowhere and Guy cried out in alarm as it buried itself in his shoulder. Pain flared in waves and he flinched forward – a movement that saved his life as another two arrows quickly followed in succession, one drawing a graze along his cheek and the other imbedded into the tree beside him with a 'thunk' of finality.

Hoarse war cries erupted from the forest around him and he stared in shock as a motley collection of villagers emerged from the trees. Their clothes of brown and green blended into the scenery so that it seemed that the very undergrowth was bristling with hostility. Four men with axes, swords and scythes headed towards Guy. He drew his sword with his good arm and could feel blood running down his back. He hacked at those around him with only one thing on his mind; retreat!

* * *

Djaq stared at the immobile man at her feet that moments ago had been planing on killing her. She sagged to her knees in shock and bent to touch the body. The wound was a sticky swelling bloodpatch and the feather on the arrow rustled slightly in the breeze. Glancing up Djaq saw a pair of familiar worn boots, the man held a recurve bow with casual familiarity - an arrow already notched and finally she looked up into the grim face of Robin Hood.

"Hello Djaq, I see you're playing nice."

Englishmen!


	7. Intermission: Three Years Past

She was cold. More correctly her front was cold but her back was warm. Marian felt like she was dragging her body out of a very big hole, and her body was not cooperating. She opened her eyes. It was dark now and she found her self looking out at shadows. Large birch trees were scattered generously, an occasional naked branch would obscure her vision until finally the darkness merged into undergrowth. The trees dripped but it had stopped raining.

She knew she was still in Sherwood. The amount of time she and Robin had hidden away from chores in here since childhood, then later gallivanting off from being a lady to playing pirates and recently with Robin's outlawing – Sherwood was almost a second home.

She turned over and realised that it had been a fire that had warmed her back. The heat hit her with an almost painful force. Sitting up she stretched her stiff fingers toward the merrily crackling flames, her limbs still heavy with tiredness.

She looked around curious. Now that her senses had warmed she realised there were a lot more people than were normally in Sherwood. In fact, it almost seemed as though an army had invaded; tents had been sporadically erected, women sat whittling arrows and chatting, men stood sharpening blades with a harsh metallic sound, children of all ages were gathered around a man so old that his hair and beard were stark white and oddly luminescent in the dark.

Djaq was sitting beside her, slightly closer to the fire. Marian wondered if she missed her homeland. Robin had written her letters in the earlier months that enthusiastically described the hot sandy land. She shook her head, she didn't know why Robin was hijacking her thoughts lately.

A figure striding purposefully caught her attention. He was clearly the leader with a flocking of attendants that twittered around him.

"Oi Alan!" A shout echoed through the trees. One of the attendants peeled himself away and came loping towards them but stopped short at the youth that had shouted his name.

"David Doncaster! Fancy meeting you out here," he said as the youth laughed and handed Alan a mug.

Alan took a swig, "Pomegranate."

"Now you'll have to fill me in on what's been happening."

Marian watched as Alan slung an arm around the stocky youth's shoulders, his head close to the dark curls as he talked and they walked away.

The General, for that's all that he could have been, had stopped and was pointing out into the darkness. Some of the men around him nodded, checking their weapons and disappeared into the darkness. They were gone for a few minutes before others slipped out of the darkness towards the leader, reporting. He slapped a few backs then directed them towards where a cauldron sat steaming.

As he walked past a campfire his face was illuminated and Marian gasped. It was Robin! He was clean-shaven which made him look like the teenager that she had known but even from this distance there was something in his eyes, or expression, or stance that spoke of experience and world-weariness. Marian didn't know whether it was this or the quite confidence that he exuded but people seemed drawn to him. As he walked towards the cooking pot some people even reached out to touch him as if unsure that he was really there.

Suddenly her vision was obscured and she blinked to discover a little girl standing before her. Her hair was silvered by the darkness and her eyes were wide in excitement.

"You're Lady Marian," she said between a large smile.

"I haven't been called that in a while," Marian replied, her voice slightly hoarse.

"When we play Robin Hood I'm always you," the little girl gushed.

"Why?"

"Because you're the Nightwatchman and she's so much better than the rest."

Marian drew in a breath in surprise. She had burned her nightwatchman outfit on the day of her wedding, the mask she had watched shrivel up and turn to ashes.

The little girl seemed oblivious.

"Can you show me some moves?"

"Moves?"

"With a sword; father said that you're one of the best."

"Oh," Marian was shocked. "And who is your father?"

The little girl looked around, searching then her smile grew even wider and she suddenly left Marian and ran straight to a young man who bent down and swung her up giggling to hold her in his arms. She could hear the little girls excited chattering and the welcoming laughter of the men surrounding father and daughter. The little girl leaned in and whispered something to her father and he jerked his head back to look at her.

Marian's grin froze at she found herself captured in a familiar gaze. Robin!

Was there anger, hurt, pity flashing across his face? His eyes had once been so expressive but he was really too far away and dappled in shadow to tell. But then something cold turned over in her stomach. Robin, the only man that she had loved, her childhood sweetheart had moved on. He had a daughter and probably a wife. Robin was a father!

* * *

It was only until later when she realised that the girl was too old to be Robin's daughter. She had seemed to be about five, she certainly wasn't three. But that only added to the mystery that surrounded Robin, although it made her feel slightly better.

She stopped walking. Why should she feel better? She was a married woman, she had told Robin to leave and he had gone. She was trying to being honest with herself about their tumultuous relationship; childhood sweethearts, betrothal, abandonment, return, secret lovers, betrayal…Really she was trying to be honest but it just seemed brutal. Did she see this as another abandonment? Robin had plenty of practice, but no, this time she had forced him to leave, if not by her words then certainly her actions.

She sighed and started walking again. She needed a wash, her hands, feet and face were still covered with the grime of battle and a headache was building behind her eyes as she tried to fathom her confusing feelings.

Coming upon the creek she stopped again. Someone was already there, his naked back bent over the water as he sluiced it onto his face and over his shoulders. Marian couldn't help but stare at the large scar that traversed his back almost from his left shoulder to his right hip, it wasn't until she noticed the ugly puckered scar in his left side that she realised that it was Robin. She felt a pang of remorse, had he got that scar the same night Much had died?

Whether she made a sound or he had simply sense that he was not alone he stood to face her. He had opened his mouth to ask a question but when he recognised her it fell shut and a ripple of emotions dashed across his face before he schooled it to indifference.

"I'm sorry," Marian blurted out. "About-"

"Stop!" His tone was commanding. "Don't apologise, not to me. I'm as much to blame as you, even more so."

"I'm still sorry," Marian mumbled looking away from his naked chest. "Guy threatened to kill my father if I didn't tell him where you were. It didn't matter though," she said bitterly. "He as good as killed him anyway. At the same time as the wedding my father was going to his death – the Sheriff tricked everyone with a fake king and my father and several other lords went to rebel and were found out."

"I'm sorry," he said. She chanced a look at him but his mask of indifference was still on. He probably already knew about her father, he had always been well informed for an outlaw.

The awkward silence grew. He had slung his shirt over his shoulder and the water still glistened on his skin. There was a tattoo on his arm, an indecipherable pattern.

"Where have you been?" she asked, unsure whether she was welcome.

He paused looking at her intently.

"I travelled the first year, or ran…I missed Much like a missing hand. We had been together for so long…I still found myself talking to him," he smiled wanly in a self-deprecating way. "I went everywhere; Normandy, Bavaria, Rome…When I came back I met Elizabeth, we married, I adopted Anna and we settled down in a town outside Sheffield. Her father taught me the family business of blacksmithing. How about you?"

"Oh…you know, the usual. How'd you?" She gestured at the tattoo.

Robin glanced down at it. "Pirates."

"Oh. Why'd you come back?"

"Couldn't let my men die, could I? Not after I was the one that got them into this mess to begin with."

"Robin!" A man came running down the embankment towards them. "Peter's back, he's got word from Tuck."

"Good." Without looking at Marian again he pulled his shirt back on and started up the embankment disappearing into the gloom of pre-dawn.

Marian sighed and sat down her feelings in turmoil. Elizabeth, that was the name of the woman who had replaced her in Robin's life. She felt inexplicably jealous of this faceless woman. His daughter clearly loved him, he obviously had a close family if his father-in-law had taught him the family business. This Elizabeth would have undoubtedly have had a more wonderful home life than Marian, how many times had she dreamed that she had married Robin? They would have been partners in everything, sharing secrets and advice because Robin was the sort of person who would listen and compromise.

That had been her favourite pastime. She would crawl out to the stable, the last place that she had seen him, sit in the straw broken and bleeding with the horses stamping nearby and dream about what could have been.

Marian ran a hand down her arm feeling the bump where Guy had broken it last winter. Someone had stolen a coffer of gold and he had accused her of betrayal. Of course, she had helped Djaq and Alan get into the castle in the first place but she denied it vigorously. That had been the last time that she was left unguarded in the castle and had virtually become a prisoner in her own home. She shook her head, no she had chosen this life. Back then she had been sickened at her actions that had betrayed good men, with the death of her father and Robin's continued absence she had simply not cared anymore – even the pain from the beatings had grown less. She was becoming numb, she was no longer innocent.

She sighed and looked around her. She saw a rumpled cloak and realised that Robin had left his clothes behind, he had been in that much of a hurry to escape her presence. Ever the dutiful housewife she collected them, surprised to find a silver cross hanging from a chain on top of his cloak.

On returning to the camp she was accosted by the little girl again, Robin's little girl, what had he said her name was…Anna?

"Djaq said you came this way and I wanted to ask…why do you have mamma's necklace?"

"Pardon?" Marian asked, diverted. The little girl reached out thin fingers and traced the metal of the cross.

"This is my mother's necklace, father wears it. He says when I grow up it's mine." There was a sadness to the little girl's features.

"Robin left it behind, he seemed a bit distracted. Why don't you hold on to it for him?" She said handing the necklace over to the little girl. She traced the metal then surprisingly pocketed it.

"I miss her."

"Who?"

"My mother." A whisper.

"What happened to her?" Marian felt slightly shameful asking this little girl her burning question. Almost as if she were exploiting her.

"She died with my little brother." Marian's stomach flipped again. Robin was widowed, and he had had a son. Her heart clenched for sympathy. She knew some of the horror – she had miscarried last spring, but she had felt a surge of relief as well. What kind of mother was she to want to bring a child into her household? Better to keep it away from Gisborne.

"I'm sure she's safe in heaven." Marian said feeling inadequate.

"That's what Tuck says…Will you tell me a story?"

Marian looked over at Robin, he was deeply emersed in what seemed an important conversation.

"What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me about Robin Hood and Maid Marian?" She asked wistfully.

"All right," Marian said with a grin. "Robin Hood and Maid Marian, Lord and Lady of the Greenwood, but they weren't always like that. First they were childhood friends and renowned mischief makers…"

* * *

"Gahhh..." Guy cried between clenched teeth. The physician's fingers at his shoulder didn't feel gentle. In fact, it felt like he was jabbing it with hot pinchers, and he wouldn't put it past this man either.

"Hundreds you say?" The Sheriff was pacing, showing no emotion that his right-hand man was currently bleeding on his floor.

"At least that," Guy gritted. "The undergrowth was practically brustling with them."

"This isn't good," muttered the Sheriff. "Do you think it coincidence that the day I recieve a letter announcing Prince John's intention to host a tournament here in Nottingham the same day that the villagers revolt and you get shot with an arrow? A clue, No."

"But what else could it be? They have no idea what John is doing, or where Richard even is."

The Sheriff turned on his protegee, his eyebrows drawn in disgust.

"I'll give you a hint: Robin Hood."


	8. Scheming

Waiting was the worst. Robin was glad to be back though. He felt almost as if he had brought the crusades to Sherwood; tents set up everywhere, lookouts sent out and men sent on hunting or gathering forays. It was nice to be occupied, once again leading men who believed and followed you.

He had been shocked at seeing Marian, if he was honest with himself. She was thin, haggard and pale. He was also not blind to the motley of yellowing bruises that covered her arms in the shape of handprints. The spark of fire that had always been in her since they were children, that fire that he loved and cherished had burnt out and it didn't take him two guesses to know who was at fault. Another bubble of fury at Gisborne formed. He had been so close to killing him the other day, if only he hadn't flinched.

But Robin was the leader again and he couldn't afford to let his personal convictions enter into the plans. He would make Gisborne pay, oh he would definitely even the score, but it would have to wait.

He squatted down around the campfire that was hosting his meeting; Alan, John, Will and Djaq were all waiting. He smiled, it was almost like old times, except none of them were as naïve of betrayal and it was foolish to say that it wasn't far from their minds now, with so many men it was going to be difficult.

"So," Robin began looking around at the familiar faces. "This is it. We're going to take down the Sheriff and Gisborne once and for all."

"How?" Alan asked.

"Prince John is coming to Nottingham to host a tournament. Only he can remove the Sheriff."

"But John isn't going to remove his right hand man," Little John pointed out in his gruff voice.

"Not willingly, but with a knife at his throat we'll have a trial and an execution." Robin said confidently.

"And how do we do that?" Alan asked again.

"What I need to know is who is in support of the Sheriff, who supports Richard still?"

"Marian would know that," Djaq said and before Robin could stop her she had turned and called the dark haired woman towards her.

Marian had been playing with Anna, a rare smile lighting her face. Robin was glad that the two were getting on, it prevented him from having to keep an eye out for Anna all the time, although after two years of being a father to an adventurous girl he was still watchful.

"What can I help you with?" Marian asked sitting down in the firelight.

"I need to know who is still supporting the Sheriff, and who is supporting John." Robin asked turning his game-face towards her.

"Not many nobles are for the Sheriff after the incident of the Abbey of Saint Peter." She paused while everyone's thoughts turned grimly to the events of said Abbey where Nottingham soldiers led by Gisborne had laid waste after a small uprising. "About two would remain loyal if pushed." Marian continued. "As for those supporting John; Roger de Ferrers, Richard of Lancashire, Gilbert de Lacy and William de Warenre are staunch supporters while Hugh d'Avranches and Fulk FitzWarin maybe amenable to change-"

"FitzWarin isn't a problem," Robin cut in. "He lost an estate thanks to John and," Robin gave a wry grin. "He promised me some of his men. De Lacy would be a problem as he hates King Richard with a passion but he's engaged in his own battle around his estate which should tied him over until we're done. Ferrers…has a daughter doesn't he?"

"That's right," Marian replied a little confused at the sudden change of track. "No heirs as yet, only a ten year old daughter."

"Right, that's our leverage. Alan," said man sat up straighter to pay attention. "I want you to take five or six men, this is a stealth mission not a force. You are to sneak into de Ferrers' manor and kidnap his daughter…"

"What?!" Will, Djaq and John spluttered together. Alan looked a little too excited about his less then honourable mission.

"You are not to hurt her," Robin continued, ignoring the opposition. "We're using her as leverage and that can only work if she is alive. Bring her here so she can be with the other children."

"How do you know that will sway him?" Alan asked.

Robin looked over at his fair haired daughter. "I know what a man will do to protect his daughter, and I know de Ferrers. He'll fold."

"What about Lancashire, are you going to kidnap his daughter too?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Robin said. "He doesn't have a daughter. Will, take two men and some gold and get to Lancashire. Richard has a mistress that often goes to the markets. With enough incentive she may come willingly."

"So we kidnap a daughter and a mistress. What are you going to do for Warenre?" Alan asked.

"Kidnap his castle."

"What?"

"De Warenre has a blood feud with Warin de Powys. I'm sending David and a few men dressed in de Powys' colours to hold one of de Warenre's outhouses, temporarily. That should put him on the spot for a while and certainly long enough to turn his attention away from us."

The outlaws all looked at him. His tactics were certainly new and different to what he had otherwise tried before, but also there was a touch of finality about them. Robin Hood wasn't playing games in Sherwood anymore. He had a purpose – bring the Sheriff of Nottingham to justice, and he would do anything in his power to make sure that was what happened.

"Alan, Will…go." The two said outlaws immediately got to their feet, used to following Robin's orders even after all this time. Will remained only to whisper something to Djaq, then left.

"What about us?" John asked once they had gone.

"I need you two to train these nonces," Robin gave a fond grin to rid the words of their derogatory use. "Djaq, gather some people to find some poultices and basic first aid, just in case. And John, I know some men who could use a good beating with a quarterstaff so they learn to hold it better."

As the two outlaws rose Robin bid John wait a while. He dug in his pockets for a minute then withdrew a worn piece of parchment and handed it to John.

"It's from Alice," Robin replied to John's confused look. "She had this letter scribed and asked me to deliver it. You can get one of the Friars to read it to you."

The older man's eyes shimmered for a second with unshed tears. He thanked Robin gruffly then disappeared in search of a cloaked holy man. That left only Marian behind.

* * *

"That was nice of you," she said watching John go.

"Yeah, well, I was just the messenger." She could hear him standing and looked up to find his hand stretched down towards her. She took it and he hauled her to her feet. "Now, my lady, we are going shopping."

"Shopping?" She asked. Robin's eyes were glittering with mischief as they had so often in their childhood.

"Well in to town at least, I know better than to give my women free reign with my purse strings…ANNA." Marian jumped as he shouted but pondered the use of his possessives – 'my women'?

The little girl came running up to her father and he swung her into his arms leading the way down the small rise.

"Where are we going, papa?" Anna asked.

"We're going into town for a small errand, but I need a bit of a disguise…"

"We're your disguise?" The little girl asked excitedly as Robin settled her on the back of a worn pony, untying it and jollying it along with a gentle cluck. Marian kept pace, catching Robin's eye over the pony's head.

"No one will pay attention to a family," he replied.

The journey there was long and precarious, on foot through Sherwood forest at night. They reached the tree line as dawns light was filtering in between the branches.

"Just in time for the markets," Robin said breaking the conversation. They had talked about everything and nothing falling back into a semblance of childhood and diverting around any topics that were remotely controversial. Although Marian had been given quite a detailed – and what she considered a highly exaggerated – version of Robin's travels, courtesy of his daughter.

Marian could feel the growing tension between them, as if just being in each other's presence was enough to jolt the feelings that she had managed to smother the past three years. Of course Anna both provided distraction and exasperated the situation, they couldn't talk as freely with her around.

They had gotten into Nottingham easily enough, just one of many poor families clamouring for the markets. She followed Robin down familiar roadways and past enticing stalls. She had re-amassed her courage during the journey, feeling much like her old self. Now, with the well-known walls of Nottingham castle shadowing her she felt the old doubts and wounds creeping back like an infection she couldn't rid. She had a feeling that Robin sensed it too because as she grew quieter he threw her an indecipherable look, but remained that little bit closer to her, lending reassurance by his presence.

As they passed a prominent doorway she saw Robin lean out and mark the door with a piece of white limestone.

He caught her questioning look. "Just letting them know I'm here. Now what shall we look at?"

After twenty minutes of looking at jewellery and cloth Robin led them down a little noticed street to a deserted cross road that was presided over by the backs of buildings. Before Marian could ask a question a grubby street urchin popped out of the shadows. He cast a wary eye over Marian but turned a blazing smile on Robin and Anna.

"G'morning gaffer, princess. How's things?"

"Morning Gilbert," Anna said, returning his smile.

"Any news?" Robin asked, crossing his arms and getting down to business.

The little boy scuffed a bare foot on the ground. "John's still coming in to town for the tournament. Rumour has it he got a note that informed him that Richard is out of prison in Austria."

"What about defences?" Robin asked as he turned to search through the saddlebags on the pony.

"The Sheriff's asked John to bring a double guard," said a second urchin who appeared from no where. Marian looked over her shoulder and found a third boy watching the road.

Robin whistled. "A double of the royal guard." He had turned back and handed the boys three jingling sacks. "You boys keep out of trouble, mind."

"Yes boss," they chorused, then with a bold wink at Anna, they disappeared.

"So that's how you keep so well informed," Marian surmised with a raised eyebrow. "Somehow I thought it'd be more devious."

Robin gave a sheepish grin. "There are few things more or less devious then some well paid cooks and street urchins."

"Well I…"

Robin moved so fast Marian didn't see, one minute he was standing on the other side of the horse, the next he was right in front of her, crowding her space. Her experience of the last few years had her muscles tensing up and her eyes closing in anticipation of rough treatment before she could even think. But then she caught his scent; wet earth, sweat and spices. Her nose knew that it was Robin in front of her and her body relaxed automatically, because no matter what, her brain knew that he would never hurt her. She opened her eyes and found them level with his chin, glancing up she found his eyes trained on hers. They flicked sideways in meaning and she followed the direction to find Gisborne and a small band of men picking their way belligerently through the press of people.

She really did start shaking then. She couldn't control her own body and she felt ashamed. Robin's hand squeezed her shoulder and her eyes flicked back to him. They were compassionate and understanding. She knew that he would never sympathise with her for her marriage to Gisborne. To him that had been of her own making, her own stubborn decision. But that hand offered to help her out of it.

Something tugged at her sleeve and she looked down to see Anna looking up at her, eyes wide in confusion and fear. On an impulse she bent down and picked her up, resting her on her hip so that all three heads were together. To an outsider they looked like any normal family, but Robin was struck by the casual intimacy and domesticity of the action.

"Come on," he said huskily. "It's time to go."

* * *

Marian was exhausted, she hadn't walked this far in a long time, but she wasn't going to admit it to Robin. Her foot caught in a root and she tripped, just managing to keep her feet. Suddenly strong arms were gripping her waist firmly, she flinched automatically at the touch but the hands were gentle. Without a word he swung her up onto the pony's back and she settled down quietly behind Anna, instinctively wrapping an arm around the dozing girl to keep her upright. Glancing sideways she watched Robin lope in pace with the pony, a wolf in the shadows.


	9. Strangers

The waiting was the worst. Days dragged slowly on; men came and went and the camp bustled with energy. Marian couldn't help the feeling that Robin was waiting for something. The little de Ferrers girl and Lancashire mistress had arrived at the camp days ago. The little girl was perhaps a mite sullen at being uprooted by peasants but the mistress was incongruently enjoying herself, impressed that she held enough importance to merit a kidnapping. Robin was the king of the Greenwood, serving their various needs with courtesy and patience.

Marian couldn't fathom the wait. Prince John had been reported in Nottingham for three days and the tournament had begun yesterday with the jousts. She saw groups being disguised and sent off for daily scouting but nothing large scale to enforce Robin's plans.

To ease her nerves she had taken over from the old man in watching the children, Anna in particular reminded her of a young and boisterous Robin.

She was standing amongst the bustle of the camp now, watching the children play a stone skipping game. The air was filled with the tang of spice and cooking meat as the villagers' wives set to work for the dinner of the day. Marian smiled, throughout the weeks that she had been spending there she had seen all the members of the original gang being kicked out of the camp kitchen. Apparently none of them were willing to give up their cooking rights but they hadn't reckoned on facing the wives' fury.

She was musing about this when she heard the scout whistle. At its distinctive high pitch the entire camp, like a well drilled army, stilled. She looked up and saw Robin tensing like a drawn bow.

The muffled drumming of hoof beats on the forest floor announced their guests. A group of cloaked horsemen rode into the camp, each on proud beasts that had been superficially dirtied. As soon as Robin saw them he relaxed, and as the leading horseman, a stout wide man dismounted, Marian was surprised to see Robin clasp him in an exuberantly jovial fashion that had been noticeably absent in the recent days.

"Tuck!" Anna squealed and the next minute she was running up to the stout man whose hood had fallen back to reveal a large balding patch and a kind face.

"Hoo hoo, why if it isn't the little lady. Getting big aren't you?" he chuckled as he wrestled her into his arms.

Marian watched as Robin greeted all of the cloaked men with equal joviality, even bowing courteously to one tall figure. She wondered, these men were obviously who Robin had been waiting for but since his return from the crusades she would hardly have judged him in need of religious sanction, and he had never been superstitious.

Robin laughed again, slapping Tucks back and turned to the camp at large. His laugh had garnered the attention of all that had not already been intrigued by the entrance of the riders.

"Now the _real_ fun begins."

* * *

Marian was sitting on the embankment above the camp as she watched the bustle. Anna had very verbally conveyed her reluctance to leaving but eventually all the children had finally been packed securely into a cart with the elderly and transported to Kirklees abbey. Now preparations for war were under way and an atmosphere of intensity thrummed through the camp almost like a carnival; excited chatter, the harsh ring of swords being sharpened, the snick of wood against wood…

In the middle of all of this Robin plopped himself down beside her with a weary sigh of anticipation, the loam crunching beneath him.

"It's like the Hunt," he commented. "Everyone's the same, excited about blood sport."

Marian turned towards him and he actually flinched away from her.

"What?" he asked, meeting her confused gaze. "Thought you were going to clock me. No 'grow up'? or 'idiot boy'?"

"'Idiot boy'? I don't recall ever saying that."

"Sorry, it's been a few years. My memory's wasting away, but I thought it sounded like something you used to say."

It occurred to Marian that it had been a long time since someone had flinched away from her. She had gotten the feeling that in recent years nothing that she did mattered anymore and now she was faced with the obvious fact that someone had found it worthwhile to remember what she used to say three years ago. She couldn't help herself, she threw her head back and laughed. Maybe she wasn't as immune to the nervous excitement as she had previously assumed.

Beside her Robin turned serious. "I heard Djaq say that you're coming with us."

It wasn't a question but Marian bristled. "You can't make me stay behind."

Robin smiled understandingly and her anger dissipated. "I wouldn't even dream of trying to convince you otherwise, in fact I'd be surprised if you did. But we need to talk…"

Marian raised her eyebrows in slight bewilderment. "Isn't that what we're doing?"

"I mean talk about this," he gestured with his hand between them. "This giant amount of tension that is sitting between us, before we go to Nottingham. Marian…" He said her name with a sigh and she was transported back eight years, a much younger Robin was before her telling her that he was leaving to go to the Holy Lands, an array of hope, excitement, and sadness playing over his face. Back then she hadn't listened, just turned her back and slammed her door.

"It's like fate never wanted us together," Marian said quietly. "She kept splitting us up."

Robin snorted. "You could say that despite everything we kept coming back together, isn't that fate?"

"Shows our stupidity more like."

"At least it wasn't just me you were insulting there."

"I don't know Robin," Marian said exasperatedly. "It's so confusing. We've both grown up, we're different now…"

Robin looked up through the trees branches to a clear blue sky. "Here, I'll simplify it. I never give up, on anyone. And I love you Marian, I just don't know whether I trust you anymore."

The stark sincerity of Robin's words took her breath away. "You're the only man I ever loved Robin of Locksley," she whispered. "I was so stupid back then, I thought to save my father by sacrificing my own happiness, I see now that all I was doing was destroying lives; father's, yours, mine and Much's…I would give anything to turn back time and take it all back but I can't, I'm married and…"

Robin chuckled mirthlessly. "Marian, I'm an outlaw living in Sherwood. It doesn't matter to me whether you're married or not. And for that matter, you're an outlaw of Sherwood too. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Nobody had asked her that in a long time. "I want…maybe, when all this is done, a life away from all this. Maybe a life…with you…if that's possible?"

"Maybe." But Robin's lips were twitching upwards.

"Maybe," Marian repeated her voice full of laughter. They sat in silence then, their hands entwined, watching the action below them.

A crunching signalled the arrival of one of the riders from before. He came up to stand before them, his face still hidden in shadow.

"Almost time Robin," he said. His voice was deep and rich and Marian could see a hint of reddish beard from within the deep folds of his cowl.

"We'll be down shortly," Robin replied courteously.

But the stranger didn't leave. Instead he turned towards Marian and seemed to be appraising her. "And this is the Lady Marian?"

"The one and only," Robin said. Marian was too stunned to speak.

"I've heard a lot about you," he said with a quick look askance to Robin.

Marian was speechless, however, before she could do anything Little John called Robin and with a squeeze of her hand he was gone.

The stranger sat down in Robin's vacated spot.

"I can't imagine what Robin would have said," Marian murmured quietly.

"Oh, it was quite memorable for its unusualness." He said with a smile in his voice. "He described a beautiful young woman who was impossibly headstrong with a quick wit and intelligent mind. I often wondered why he would find such things commendable, especially in a woman, but the more he told me stories of your youth together I think I became a bit jealous of what you two had."

"Had." Marian said, picking up on the past tense.

"Have," he amended. "I have long since realised that Robin isn't particularly the most normal of men, but now I see that you are both cut from the same cloth, and that suits you." The man laughed a rich deep laugh. "You see? Even now I am still jealous. He has been living in a forest and I find myself wishing I could have a bigger part of the adventure, but that has always been Robin's way."

"You have known him long?"

"I watched him grow into a man, from a distance. But he was always unique, so you could say that he piqued my interest. I trained him, he was one of my best…"

Marian was struck with a sudden possibility. This man that Robin had been waiting for, could he be…?

"Marian!" Robin's shout carried, and they both looked up to see him beckoning them down.

"Shall we?" The stranger rose to his feet and offered an elegant hand down to Marian. She took it and they both walked down. They were one of the last groups and everyone was on horseback.

Arranging her skirts after she had mounted she looked over at Robin who was almost unrecognisable in his peasant clothes and cobbler's hat. His grin was infectious though, and Marian couldn't help but return it.

"Right, everyone ready?" He asked. "John?"

Little John was grinning too, looking oversized for his horse. In his deep gravely voice he said, "Let's go to Nottingham."


	10. The Confrontation and Confession

Bigger than any town fair coloured tents, cooking stalls and chatter marked the tournament. It spread out along the eastern wall of Nottingham town covering the grass in a picture of light-hearted merrymaking that was marred by the presence of soldiers every ten metres. The walls of the town were also stationed with archers, most notably in the colours of Prince John.

Despite this many people beetled the area browsing stalls, a large number of patrons were flowing out of the designated pub and a crowd had gathered in what had been the jousting area opposite the raised dais that housed the nobles, curious to get a glimpse of the royalty in Nottingham.

Prince John was as dark as his brother was fair, though both were tall and slim. He sat centre stage with the Sheriff at his right hand, and with his feet up on the chair in front of him he looked the picture of contented insolence.

The Sheriff, however, looked a little nervous.

"The archery contest, mi'lord? Maybe it is too much temptation?"

John laughed a deep catching sound.

"My dear Sheriff, it is temptation. Even all the way in Winchester I have heard of your famous Robin Hood and I must confess I am curious. If your bold outlaw will grace us with his presence he will hardly escape, and then, my dear sheriff, you will have accomplished the thing that you have been incapable of doing for the last four years. Besides," he took a lazy scoff from his goblet. "I am in dire need of a little entertainment. My mood of late has been appalling."

"It's about to get worse," muttered the Sheriff.

"What was that?"

"I like a good purse."

The prince merely grunted in reply.

* * *

"A pretty bauble for a pretty lady?"

"Robin!" Marian hissed. They were surrounded by women at the jewellery and cloth stalls. Alan in particular was looking around in appreciation.

"Maybe some nice patterned cloth?"

"Robin!"

"What?" He turned towards her his eyebrows raised, for all the world like his only concern was shopping.

"Grow up!"

His answering grin could have eclipsed the sun.

"Right then," he said rubbing his hands together. "First things first, we need to get the archers off the walls."

"Yeah, about that Robin." Alan said dragging his eyesight away from a bosomy barmaid. "How do you propose to get past the royal guards? They're the _royal_ guards."

"I know what they are, Alan. That's the whole point."

Alan's face was the picture of bewilderment.

"I intend to use them."

"Huh?" Alan's bewilderment seemed to be catching.

"Wilfred." Robin said, slapping one of the cloaked strangers on the back. "You know what to do."

The stranger dropped his hood revealing a fair man with sparkling blue eyes. "Always the tactician, Captain? It's nice to see that everything I've taught you hasn't gone to waste." He shifted slightly revealing a royal guard uniform beneath his flowing cloak. "Let's see if the old fogies don't hop to it when they see their old commander, hey?" With a predatory smirk he disappeared into the crowds.

"Captain?" Will asked.

"Wilfred of Ivanhoe, taught me everything I know…almost. He's been the commander of the royal guard for eight years and he's well liked. He'll get them on our side. Now," Robin turned a full circle looking over the heads of the crowd. "I'm off to cause a distraction."

"Robin, be careful…and good luck." Marian said.

"Come on Marian, it may not be a silver arrow but a challenge for the best archer in England? Puh-lease, I'm Robin Hood."

* * *

Guy shifted uncomfortably in the shadows. He was standing in the back of the royal tent, behind the Sheriff's chair attending him. But his mind kept wandering and his shoulder kept throbbing and he kept hearing that 'thunk' of the arrow that had missed taking his life by a hairs-breadth. He shuddered then looked around to make sure that nobody had noticed.

The crowd opposite the dais was swelling in anticipation of the archery contest. The bumblebee uniforms of his guards were sparse and few compared to the sheer numbers of people out there now. Guy could see the few soldiers in the uniform of the royal guard, but there seemed to be some commotion amongst them. From where he was standing he could see a royal guard spreading a message among his fellows and he felt uneasy. He remembered clearly the hostility of the villagers in the forest.

As the archers aligned at the hundred pace mark, all wearing hoods in silent homage to the absent Robin Hood, Guy made his escape. He knew something wasn't right and he'd be damned if he was going to go down with the Sheriff.

Walking fast between merchant stalls he caught a glimpse of dark hair out of the corner of his eye and stiffened. Marian. She was standing with the outlaw Saracen between the stalls. He watched as the Saracen left and his wife looked around her. He had been right, something was happening.

The decision was made before he even realised what he was doing. With a few long strides he was at her side and as she turned towards him he gripped her arm tightly. She smelt of lilac, he had often been surprised of that smell in the early months of their marriage. He watched in a detached satisfaction as her face morphed from polite curiosity to anger then fear.

"My dear wife, fancy meeting you here."

"Guy?" It was a pleaded whisper, something he had come to expect from his wife.

"I knew something was happening, if you tell me now then I promise not to hurt you."

"All your promises are lies."

"Come now Marian, is that a way to speak to your husband. You're not one of them, now tell me what the plan is. You know you want to."

The next minute he wasn't sure what happened. He had been whispering into Marian's ear, his hand clenched around her jaw and the other on her upper arm, he had felt her shaking. Now he was lying on his back looking up into the clear blue sky, winded. His first coherent thought was that the Saracen must have returned with others. A second later he realised that that wasn't so. It was just his wife and him. Marian's face was a storm of anger, with a jerky step she unsheathed a sword from the nearby weaponry stall and with barely controlled rage she was pointing at his throat.

"I''m not that person," she said.

Guy let out a weak laugh and tried to get up, Marian's sword pressing threateningly against his flesh halted him immediately. "Marian," he said warningly. "Put the sword down."

"No," she hissed her eyes flashing. "I am through with taking orders. I am not a child."

"You're my wife," Guy hissed looking around at the merchants who were merely standing nearby watching the confrontation. They recognised him, he supposed, and after the calamity at Saint Peter's Abbey no one was going to help him. "We are married under law, and you will obey me."

"No."

"You won't get away with this."

"I'm an outlaw now Guy. I don't follow any law."

"And look where it's got you; a hole in the forest. Is that the life you want?"

"I'd take a hole over being your wife."

"No one will take you. You'll be a whore…" The rest of his sentence was cut off by the hilt of the sword slamming against his face. He looked up in surprise at Marian as he spat out blood.

"I don't need you; did I forget to mention? The nightwatchman, Guy, is me."

Guy stared with unconcealed surprise at her confession.

"That's right," Marian said louder, stepping back and spreading her arms to the spectators. "I'm the nightwatchman. All this time Guy, and you've been duped."

"You'll hang for this," Guy said hoarsely.

"Will I? Well, I guess we can go together, dear _husband_. Prince John's reign is ending and the Sheriff is finished, today. Will you join me on the scaffold?"

He was on his knees now, Marian having moved away enough not to threaten him immediately with her sword but he was cautious.

"No one will have you now."

"I don't want no one." She tore the ring from her finger and threw it at him. Then she laughed a beautiful melodious sound that was so far removed from what he had ever heard from her that he stared in wonderment. Her smile that she endowed on him was soft and loving and in no way meant for him. "I have the only man I've ever loved; Robin Hood lives and he loves me." Here she laughed again. "I love him, I love Robin Hood."

The words themselves were meaningless birdsong. Beyond her glowing face he recognised the figures of the giant Little John, the Saracen and her tall skinny flunky. The odds against him, he spared his wife one more appraising stare. He was coming to realise that he had never really seen her, this woman. Then he scrambled inelegantly to his feet and disappeared within the crowds. Marian had said Prince John's reign was over, and he wasn't one to doubt her sincerity.


	11. Contest of the Regent

"Archery is a peasant sport," Prince John said leaning back in his seat to talk to a noble. De Ferrers, Sheriff supposed, as the small man had been sulking in the shadows all day. "Now jousting, that is the sport of the kings. Do you not find it interesting that this _noble_, Robin Hood would profess to be the best archer in all England?"

"No, your majesty." Vasey muttered.

"Champion for the peasants, hmph! Look at them," here he indicated the hooded archers. "Even now they love him, even though he hasn't been seen for some years. I will never understand. Just like my brother. They bleed the country dry with their antics and yet, the people love them for it. Inconceivable."

The crowd cheered as an arrow imbedded itself just off centre from the bullseye. The archers were now shooting from a two hundred pace distance. There were three left; an old man with salt and pepper hair and a long bow, a young hooded man and a middle-aged cobbler both using recurve bows.

"Mi'lord?" the adjudicator asked turning to the royal pavilion. John nodded as expected.

"Two hundred and fifty yards," the adjudicator bellowed, puffing his chest out like a cocky starling.

The old man laughed. "Oh aye, I best be bowing out then me'laddie. I won't be of any use if I can't see the target," with a further chuckle he shook hands with the other two competitors and bowed out of the competition.

"Two arrows," the adjudicator announced. "William of Kent goes first."

The young man stood, dropping his hood for better sight. His bow creaking with the pressure exerted by the strong youth and sent his arrow powerfully toward the target. The crowd clapped as it imbedded in range of the centre.

The cobbler strung his arrow and stood for a moment checking the wind. A breeze had sprung up and low arrows that avoided the strong air currents were no longer an option. Now only strength or tactics would apply. Feeling the strength of it cooling his face, he sighted and released. The crowd ooed as the arrow thunked slightly off centre.

William stood again, and the crowd fell eerily silent. Notching his grey fletched arrow he pulled back and released. The target trembled slightly under impact but the shot was good, dead centre. The crowd burst into applause and cheers at the archer's feat, not bothering to silence as the cobbler stood up to the line. For who could best that shot? The young boy was as good as Robin Hood himself.

There were a few in the crowd who stood silent, watching and waiting. A few who wore dirtied cloaks or hats pulled low.

The cobbler calmly pulled a feather from his arrow, lightening it then notched it. Ignoring the still cheering crowd and his grinning competitor he sighted down the field, feeling the cold wind on his hands, the taught string against his cheek and the smooth wood beneath his fingers. This was his world. With a twang he released, his hands falling by his sides as he squinted to follow his arrow's progress. Had the crowd not been making a lot of noise they would have heard the sound of splitting wood. Out of habit, many followed the arrow's trajectory and thus, gradually the crowd fell silent in astonishment.

A new arrow was now reverberating slightly dead centre, the pieces of the old arrow split around it.

The silence of the crowd was eerie now as the cobbler bowed courteously towards them and turned towards the royal pavilion. Then the whispering started. A murmuring that sounded like a wave across stones swept across the crowd as the lone cobbler mounted the steps to stand before Prince John.

Marian, standing in the crowd could only grin in nervousness and excitement at the rumours flying around her.

"It has to be Robin Hood." "Or his ghost." "I've never seen anything like it." "I didn't believe it was possible." "Only Hood could shoot like that."

The adjudicator finally shook himself from his daze. "Robert of Sheffield is the winner." He rumbled into the silence.

* * *

Vasey's eyes had boggled at the impossible shot. A man who could shoot like that would no doubt have been invaluable to his commander. There was also no doubt that Robin Hood still lived.

"Your Robin Hood, I believe?" Prince John asked casually.

"Without a doubt, your majesty." Vasey replied looking over his shoulder for Gisborne, only…he wasn't back there. In fact, Vasey let his eyes flicker back and forth, the entire pavilion was looking distinctly empty to what it had before the entrance of one Robin of Locksley. Suddenly uneasy the Sheriff turned to watch his nemesis standing cockily before the Prince.

* * *

"That was an impressive show, Robert of Sheffield. Or should I say Robin Hood?" Prince John said clearly. The crowd rippled again with murmurs as Robin, smiling, removed his hat and bowed courteously.

"Your majesty."

"I don't believe I've ever seen anything quite like it. But I must ask, what does an outlaw want with an audience with the king?"

Robin's eyes flickered to the Sheriff and back again. "I call upon you to hold Sheriff Vasey and Guy of Gisborne accountable." He said clearly and the crowd fell silent.

"Accountable?" John's voice was laced with amusement. "For what precisely?"

"For perverting the course of justice, for the extortion of money and goods to the value, for the terrorism of Nottingham's citizens and…for an attempt on the King's life."

Prince John laughed now, rolling back in his chair and slopping his wine while Robin waited calmly. "These are harsh charges indeed, but pray tell me, why would I believe an outlaw?"

"Because milord," now Robin's smile grew predatory. "I am willing to pervert justice myself." The end of Robin's sentence was nearly lost for as he finished speaking a loud 'boom' rolled across the field. Some people screamed but further commotion was lost as a series of explosions rippled around the outskirts of the fair. Dirt and fire shot into the air and within five minutes the field was clouded in smoke and dust. Through the smog the glint of metal could be seen as hundreds of villagers drew their swords and bows. Nottingham soldiers barely got five steps before they were surrounded.

"Black powder!" Vasey hissed, his face a picture of travesty. "_My_ black powder!"

Robin turned towards him slowly. "That's right, we have enough black powder to level this tournament and Nottingham castle. All that would be left is a crater. Now what do you say to my bargaining power…milord?"

"That you have signed your own death sentence, guards!" John had recovered from his fright. But nothing happened.

A soldier dressed in the royal guard uniform stepped forward from the back of the pavilion.

"What are you waiting for?" John cried. "Kill him."

"Errr…sorry, your majesty but…we are under orders to…well…to detain _you_ milord." He said nervously, flicking a look at Robin he suddenly came to attention and offered a salute. "Captain, it's an honour, sir."

"What is going on around here?" Vasey cried in disgust.

"This is treason," shouted John, his face livid. "This is treason!"

"Is it?" came a deep rich voice.

* * *

Marian, Will and Djaq had finished setting off the explosions and had returned to the pavilion prepared to force John to sit a trial turned to each other in confusion. The show of force that Robin had engineered to frighten John into cooperating had gone according to plan but now one of Robin's strangers was standing on the pavilion beside him.

"You will all be tried for treason!" John shouted.

"I think not, little brother." And with this simple statement, Richard the Lionheart removed his hood. He was a tall man with twinkling blue eyes, red hair and beard. Prince John was struck dumb. Robin dropped to his knee and on reflex the rest of the crowd, including Marian, Will, Djaq who were now joined by Alan and John did so too.

"The King," Will whispered fiercely. "The real King."

"Blimey," Alan whispered back weakly. "I gave him the leftover porridge."

* * *

"It seems much has happened while I've been away," Richard said calmly.

"Richard? I…I did not know…the outlaws…" John stammered.

"I am well aware of the activities of these outlaws," Richard said, turning his back on his brother he faced the crowds. "Arise Robin, Earl of Huntingdon. This country has faced its own terror of civil war, but now, thanks to the antics of those you call Robin Hood's outlaws this country shall be made right again. I announce it here before all of you today, the official pardon of Robin of Locksley and his men, and the arrest of Sheriff Vasey and Guy of Gisborne."

The crowd cheered a chant suddenly grew: "Robin Hood! Robin Hood!"

At a nod from his monarch Robin took the stage, holding his hands up placating he achieved a quasi silence.

"I am not the hero you proclaim me to be. Today we have taken back our country, but it was not I alone. Many of you have played a part and most particularly those men who took to the forest to fight injustice, those are the true heroes. To build our shire back to what it was before we must all work together, and I say it now and hope that you will all follow me in this, I support King Richard and all of his decisions."


	12. The End

Of course there were several more administrative details to work out. Wilfred of Ivanhoe was charged as the temporary Sheriff with Robin as his deputy. And the men and women of Sherwood were left to do nothing but celebrate. The tournament grounds had been converted into one big open air pub and the laughter and drinking and chatter twisted upwards towards the darkening sky. The King had even seated himself at a table amongst the peasants, true he had surrounded himself with his nobles and trusted advisors, but he was still amongst the people.

Marian was seated firmly between Alan and Will both of whom were distracted by the women on their other sides. She looked around but she couldn't see the one person she wanted.

"Where's Robin?" She asked aloud disturbing Will and Djaq's intense conversation and Alan's lusty barmaid.

* * *

The horse was dropping its head in exhaustion. It wouldn't be of any use if it died so he dismounted and led it over to the stream. Standing beside the steaming horse he looked around. He had taken the route through Sherwood because it was faster but now he was reconsidering. He didn't know the territory that well, and the thick trees exaggerated the already darkening day. He could see piecemeal of the purpling sky through the canopy and the forest had taken on a grey half light. At the moment he almost believed the stories the villagers told of ghosts in Sherwood, but of course those stories always involved Robin as the leader of said ghosts…

"Running away with your tail between your legs?"

Guy turned slowly to make out Robin prowling silently from the gloom like a hunting wolf.

"It had to be you," Guy said, a statement. He didn't even ask how he had been found amongst the leagues of forest. "So is this where you drag me back to face justice?"

"No," Robin said quietly, circling Guy and calmly patting the horse's neck, still not looking at Guy.

Guy felt a chill crawl up his spine and was generally perturbed. "I see, this is your chance for revenge."

Robin merely lifted hooded eyes to Guy's and the man was struck by the deadness of them. He jerked his eyes away and tried again.

"Did it really rub Hood that everything of yours became mine? I tell you, I laughed every time I slept in my bed, every time I took my wife. Does it hurt knowing that Marian is my wife?" he managed to laugh. "You lost it all Hood, and for what? The good of England? People will forget you, months later they didn't even remember Robin Hood." He spat. "So kill me, that won't change the truth. Marian was mine first."

"This isn't about Marian," Robin said softly, still running fingers through the horse's mane.

Guy laughed. "Of course it is, what else is there?"

Robin unsheathed Guy's sword from the saddle bag slowly, letting the scrape of metal drag out. "This is about honour, and yes, revenge. You killed my brother."

Guy scoffed. "That manservant that was always hanging around. Was he of importance?"

"He was a better man, a cleverer man. Much, Earl of Bonchurch. He saved lives, defended countries, a loyal friend and brother. You murdered him and tonight, this ends."

Robin threw the sword to Guy, who caught it on reflex, and drew his own.

Guy tightened his grip on the cold metal of his sword. He had never been in the army, he had never felt the twin thrills of excitement and dread before going into battle, he had never stood alone in the first aid tent up to his elbows in blood listening to men screaming in pain, he had never faced certain death of uneven odds. But that night, as the last of the grey half light darkened into a surreal otherworldly silver he saw with clarity a broken man; the army had created an animal, the crusades had fed it and his actions had let it loose.

That night he saw the wolf and he knew…the ghost stories of Sherwood were true. Ghosts of broken men walked here, once respectable villagers turned outlaws. And two young boys, one fair and mild mannered watching and laughing at the harmless antics of the small dark haired one. The ghosts of what had been…

* * *

Marian's eyes were scanning the moving throng of people over her roughly hued cup. Darkness had fallen and bonfires had been lit, now a minstrel had set up shop and music resounded throughout the many conversations.

Someone sat beside her and she turned to tell them that she wasn't in the mood, closing her mouth when she recognised him. She should have known, he had developed the art of appearing without making a noise.

"Where have you been?" There was a flicker in his eyes at those words and she flinched. She remembered hundred of occasions when Much had intoned those words with that exact inflection on them as children.

Robin looked down and Marian followed his gaze. He was rubbing his hands compulsively. Hands that were luminescent white except for dark marks around his knuckles and under his fingernails. Marian's stomach flipped nauseatingly, closing her eyes she willed him not to say it, while the other half of her pre-emptively rejoiced.

"You're free," his voice was low and hoarse, weary but also…it took a while for her to detect it, relief. Opening her eyes she saw him watching her with dark eyes anxiously.

Taking his surprisingly cold hand in one of her warm ones she kept his gaze. "Not yet, it'll take a while. But I will be." She knew that he understood that it wasn't just the laws of marriage that she was talking about.

Robin breathed out and his breath ruffled the hair around Marian's face. Catching her other hand in his he entwined their fingers.

"Well Lady Marian of Knighton Hall, I ask you now, before anything else happens, with nothing to offer you besides my love…will you marry me?"

"I would marry you for a grass shack in Sherwood, Robin Hood."


	13. Epilogue: The Beginning

"…all right you lily livered blaggard, we shall show no mercy, we hold your crimes…hold him down…"

The brown haired boy stamped his foot, shouting commands at the other younger boys and girl who had been sitting on Robin. However, Robin had rolled, tossing them off and taken to tickling them while another little girl jumped on his back. The older boy dived into the fray tackling Robin.

Marian sat in the sun, watching them all in amusement.

"Will you please stop playing around, this house isn't fit to see royalty and the king will be here in a few hours." A tall fair haired young woman was standing in the doorway to Locksley. Anna had grown into her looks over the years and become the picture of domestic tyranny.

Robin managed to extract himself from the mass of limbs and charged towards his elder daughter.

"Don't you dare," she told him wiggling her finger and standing her ground.

Robin wasn't deflected and he easily caught her, and slung her shrieking over his shoulder before he was off again, the five younger children chasing after them and everyone laughing.

A little while later Robin collapsed breathless beside Marian where she was watching her brood playing. Anna had taken to commanding the girls against the boys.

"Where did Edward learn such language?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, gently adjusting the swaddling clothes that were keeping their youngest son sleeping.

Robin, bits of grey starting to sprinkle his temples flopped back into the grass, slinging an arm across his eyes.

"Blame Alan."

"Alan, hmmm?" Marian poked her husband in the stomach and he reached up instinctively to catch her hand.

"What's the ruckus for?" Said a new voice. Robin tilted his head back so that he could see Will and Djaq as they came into view around the corner of the manor. "I thought the King was due any moment?" Will asked again.

Beside him Djaq gently readjusted their own quiet son on her hip as she watched the Locksley children tumbling playfully like a litter of puppies.

Robin went back to relaxing in the grass, raising a careless hand in the direction of his offspring. "We're raising an army of hellions."

Marian poked her husband again. "How are you?" She asked her guests.

"Good, Knighton is having a good harvest this year and Luke promises to keep the good luck running until after Michaelmas." Will said smiling as he watched Edward extract one of the twins from Anna's grasp.

"Actually," Djaq said looking at her husband. "We were thinking of taking a trip. Just a small one back home – to Acre – while there is a little peace and we were wondering if you'd mind looking after Daniel…"

"Say no more," Robin interrupted without opening his eyes. "You want him to join the ranks, we'll be overwhelmed by Michaelmas."

Marian rolled her eyes. "We'd be delighted to have Daniel stay."

"It'll be good for him," Will said. "The rough and tumble of brothers and sisters."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Marian said looking back over at her own children. "Edward Much, mind your language!"

This was a mistake that the parents realised immediately. Robin sat up fast and Marian raised a protective arm around the sleeping Henry. Too late to retract the words the six children, like a pack of hungry wolves scenting prey, zoned in on the grown ups.

Richard, the most boisterous of the lot piled on top of his father pulling his twin down with them. Little Emily half tackled her mother, thus waking the baby who cried out in surprise. Edward went straight for the quiet Daniel, his tickling fingers making the other boy shriek in surprise. Anna picked up the baby Kate and managed to find a space of her father that wasn't covered by the twins and joined the rolling heap of limbs laughing breathlessly.

The unseemly display of impropriety was curtailed by the sound of hoof beats on the road accompanied by laughter. Those who were able to raised their heads to see two men; one with a mane of fluffy white hair and the other, younger, astride a pair of shire horses watching them with smiles.

Anna immediately stood, smoothing her skirts and blushing. Robin pushed a foot out of his face and grinned, "Little John, it's been too long. How've you been?"

"Can't complain," John said as he dismounted slowly. "Alice couldn't make it but I thought little Little John could use some new scenery." The young man in question grinned at the adults his eyes flicking momentarily to Anna.

"So," John stood, feeling extraordinarily tall over the sitting family. "Is that how you're going to be presented to the King?"

Robin and Marian exchanged a look and glanced around at their grass-stained family. Baby Kate had straw in her hair.

"That's what I keep telling them," Anna cut in stamping her foot. "Royalty is going to be coming up that road any moment and I simply refuse to be associated with you in this degradation." With a huff she flounced off into the house and closed the door sharply behind her.

"Well, what's got her all-"

"Edward!" Robin warned.

"Alan, right?" Marian asked her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What about me?"

Everyone looked up to see their grinning compatriot dismounting from his glossy horse, his royal guard uniform slightly dusty from the road.

"I don't mean to be funny but the King is coming up the road right now and you're wearing that?"

"Thanks for riding ahead for the warning," Robin said dryly getting to his feet and setting his sons on theirs.

"It's all part of the job," Alan grinned and wiped an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve.

"Race you," Emily called already running towards the door. The other children including Daniel and little Little John joined in, all arrowing towards the door of Locksley manor.

Marian shook her head as Robin pulled her to her feet adjusting the now wide awake infant in her arms.

Noise of people, horses and carts on the road announced the arrival of the royal retinue and the ex-outlaws followed the children into the house.

As Marian walked through the door she paused, Robin's hand on the small of her back and watched her children and friends clattering around the kitchen.

"Not quite the life you imagined?" Robin asked quietly into her ear.

She turned to look at her husband's tanned face that she knew better than her own.

"Exactly how I imagined it."

_Finito! for those who may be confused, Robin and Marian's children from eldest to youngest: Edward Much, Richard and William (twins), Emily, Kate and Henry._


End file.
